A Friend in Need
by midwifeonboard
Summary: Helen Magnus felt like a cow. No, a great big giant whale.


Helen Magnus felt like a cow. No, a great big giant whale. She had absolutely loved being pregnant until three days ago when she felt the baby drop. Yes, she could breathe a little more easily now, but, good God, the pressure! She felt like her hips were going to explode.

She had been jogging daily until about a week ago, when she finally had to slow to a brisk walk, but now her walk had turned into a waddle, and she could no longer see her feet. Yes, there were only weeks left before this baby made his or her appearance, but Helen wondered if she'd ever feel sexy again.

She shook her head. The emotional roller coaster of pregnancy was not making this any easier. It had been a long day. She had been fighting with Barney for the past week: her former protege was making noises about retiring, and Helen wasn't ready to let him go. Today he had told her that he was buying a home in Arizona and she knew the time was coming when she'd have to relent, but the news just added to her feelings of, well, inadequacy.

Never in her life had Helen had any reason to feel anything other than supremely confident and self-assured. She had always been on top intellectually. She may have been loathe to admit it to anyone, but she found great pleasure in the renown her brain had brought her.

She'd been told often enough in the past century and a half that she was beautiful, but she hadn't felt like a beauty in months now, and this day had simply drained her. She supposed she should just pack it in. Maybe a book and a bubble bath would do the trick. There was nothing like fragrant bubbles and a delicious novel to make a girl feel better.

She hauled herself out of her leather chair and made her way, somewhat tenuously, across the Sanctuary to her private rooms. Her sitting room held her private library and she scanned the books until she found what she was looking for and smiled. As a young woman with newly awakened desires, she had pored over _Fanny Hill_ until she had it practically memorized. Her eagerness to try some of the practices espoused within had both shocked and pleased John. Today the book was hardly shocking— she possessed a number which were more graphic. But the sensual purple prose of _Fanny_, the story of a woman glorying in her sexuality, was exactly what she needed today.

She brought the book up to her nose and inhaled its musty scent, feeling a little jolt. The smell of old books had been an aphrodisiac to her since she'd first known what an aphrodisiac was, and the anticipation of rereading some of her favorite passages created a feeling of delicious promise.

She laid the book on her vanity as she carefully stripped naked and walked into her bathroom to draw the bath. Fragrant oils and dried flowers were what called her today as she took in her options that lined the shelf. She ran the water to the perfect temperature. Not too hot, which would harm the growing life inside her, but just hot enough to release her tension. Returning for her book, she then eased herself carefully into the bath, the buoyancy of the water relieving her feelings of heaviness. She closed her eyes for a few moments before picking up the book and opening it to one of her favorite passages.

To this day, Helen found Fanny's first orgasm at the hands of the worldly Phoebe to be stirring, and felt her pulse begin to beat a little more rapidly. It had been years since Helen had succumbed to a woman's touch, and she enjoyed the reminder the passage provided. She then flipped to the portion where Fanny discovers the joys of fellating her lover, Charles. She squirmed with the reminder of the thrill she herself had felt when she first noted the power this act had given her over the very powerful persona of Montague John Druitt.

Of course, at that moment, the baby chose to kick a rib, and Helen was even more acutely reminded of her former love and lover. She brought her free hand to her belly to calm the little one before closing the book and setting it on the shelf beside the bath. Helen ran her hands over her belly, stroking it gently before running them up to her breasts. They were fuller now, preparing to nourish the life she was about to birth, and even more sensitive than she could remember them being in the past. She gently stroked and toyed with them, the bath oils allowing her hands slippery access to her body.

She was feeling keyed up from the reading, but sliding her hands over her own form was not increasing her pleasure in the slightest. She groaned in frustration, bringing her hands back to rest against her belly, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the terry bath pillow neatly positioned behind her.

Despite her sexual frustration, Helen began to feel much of the tension of the day draining from her. At the very least, if she couldn't find her release sexually, as she'd anticipated since drawing the bath, she could allow the bath to do the work for her, and as she lay there, breathing deeply, letting the delicate scent of the bath oils surround her, her tension began to ease, little by little.

Perhaps she had been a little rash earlier. After all, she was 139 years old and expecting her first baby. By all _normal_ accounts, she was so far beyond 'elderly primigravida' as to be laughable. She wondered if retirement was a word that would ever even make it into her personal vocabulary. She sunk a little further down into the water and sighed. As much as she would miss Barney, there would be another protege. There always was. At least this one had lived to retirement.

A fifteen minute soak and Helen was ready to go to sleep, so she began to think about getting out of the bath. Before she could sit up and decide upon the logistics of her exit, there was a soft knock at the door and it opened, the face of her dearest friend poking though.

"James," Helen smiled, resting back in the tub. She felt no shame over her nakedness around him. They had been sometime lovers for nearly a century and there had been no modesty between them for longer than she could remember.

"Helen," he returned her smile as he walked over to the tub. He glanced at the novel on the little table before sitting on the edge of the tub. "_Fanny Hill?_" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"I was feeling fat, and it's been a while," she stated by way of a half-hearted explanation.

"Oh, Helen," he picked up her hand, twining his fingers with hers. "Do you have any idea how unbelievably attractive you are right now?"

She snorted, scrutinizing him, noting his shallow breathing and dilated pupils. "Have you been dipping into the cocaine again?"

He laughed. "It _is _the decade for it, my dear. How could I not indulge from time-to-time when such quality drug is available to me? It's the first time in decades it has been this good. Besides, it eases some of the pain of this," he flexed an arm, indicating the exoskeleton which he wore on the top half of the right side of his body.

"Oh, James," Helen sympathized. "It's so bad?"

He shrugged. "Better than the alternative. Though I fear that soon my left side will need some assistance as well. I do not relish the day when I will have to wear this on my entire body." He dipped his fingers in the water. "It's getting cool."

She nodded. "Help me up."

"Of course." He used the considerable strength granted by the exoskeleton to pull her to her feet. Helen couldn't help but enjoy the way the artificially granted extra strength made her feel small and girlish when she'd felt like nothing of the sort for months. She looked up from her musing to find him staring at her in rapt attention as the water sluiced down her body.

She may not have felt self-conscious in front of James, but his heated look made her color. "Towel?" she queried.

He snapped out of whatever lust or drug induced haze he had been in and reached over to grab the soft bath sheet before helping her out of the tub. He wrapped the towel around her, pulling her gently to him, brushing his lips along her cheek. "You are beautiful, and sexier now than I can ever remember. Let me help you."

He patted her down with the towel, drying the dripping water from her body limb by limb. He started at her shoulders and arms, then moved to her breasts and belly, placing a soft kiss above her navel, watching the goose-pimples rise on her flesh as the towel fell away from her. He finally knelt down, dried her legs, and then sat back on his heels, watching her. She couldn't deny the unabashed admiration she saw in his eyes, and it made her feel more than a little giddy.

"You are a miracle," he breathed, standing back up.

Helen smiled back at her long-time friend. "Thank you. I feel the miracle. I do. I just don't feel…" she stilled, looking for the right word, "human."

James reached over to the wall and took her robe from a hook, turning her to face away from him before sliding it up her arms and tying it at the undercurve of her breasts. "You are more than human. You have been for a long time." He took her hand and led her out of the bathroom and into her bedroom. "You could gain a hundred pounds and grow another head, and you would still be as beautiful to me as you were during our days at Oxford. More, actually."

She shook her head, disbelieving. "I wonder what the coke was laced with this time."

He laughed. "Nothing, my dear, I assure you." James sat on the settee, indicating that she should join him. She did, and he tucked her into the crook of his unencumbered left side. "I've never told you this before, and I suppose now is as good a time as any to disclose this, but I've always found the pregnant female form to be extraordinarily arousing."

Helen's eyebrows nearly lifted off of her face at this insight. She remembered being shocked to discover that James found women attractive at all. A confirmed bachelor, she knew of his history with John, even during their engagement; but strict fidelity had never been the supreme rule among their group. That first time, when Helen had walked in on John and James in fervent embrace, she had been terribly embarrassed, but they had invited her to join them, and her discovery of just how much James enjoyed the female body as well as the male had been a revelation.

"I had no idea," she responded, tucking her head against his shoulder.

"It's never come up."

She cocked her head, glancing down at her belly and back up to his eyes.

James laughed. "Yes. Well, I wasn't sure how you'd respond. You've been very focused, too focused, on work since the implantation. And it didn't help that you are pregnant with my best friend's child."

"You never said anything about the work either," she chided gently.

"Helen," he kissed the top of her head before continuing. "I couldn't. You have been ready to snap for months. Believe me, I wanted to. Perhaps I should have. But this whole situation has put everyone on edge. We wanted to be sensitive."

She laughed quietly, turning her face up to give him a soft kiss on the chin. "You are lovely."

"I was about to say exactly that," he chuckled, nudging her nose with his own to bring his lips mere millimeters from hers. James gently nipped her lower lip between his teeth, pulling a soft cry from Helen, before he softly suckled it into his mouth.

She sighed into the gentle bite, insinuating her tongue between his lips, begging him by her actions to deepen the kiss. "James," she pleaded. "Please, help me." If she could have climbed into his lap, she would have. As it was, her near helplessness to maneuver herself made her desperate to be closer to him.

"Hush, Helen," he murmured. "Ssh." He pulled her closer, brushing his lips across her forehead, over her temple, and down to her ear.

"I can't," she whispered. "It's too much." Helen tightened her grip on his shoulders.

"It's all right, Helen. Come." He helped her turn on the settee so that she was facing away from him. He took one of the soft pillows and placed it under her arms so she could lean over the end of that sturdy piece of furniture. "Comfortable?"

She shook her head against the arm it was propped up against. "I haven't been comfortable in months," she moaned, moving her bottom restlessly as she felt James' hands slowly begin to stroke her over the robe.

"Touch me, James," she begged.

"I _am_ touching you, Helen," he laughed.

"You know what I mean," she growled, frustrated by her lack of agility.

She heard his soft laugh as his hands stroked down her hips and under the silk of her robe. He pushed up the robe and lifted her hips just a bit placing one of the larger pillows behind her knees which turned her bottom up to him. "Glorious, Helen," he said by way of introduction before leaning down to place a kiss on one cheek and then the other.

"James," she warned.

He leaned in gripping one hip with his right hand and starting a spiraling stroke with his left. His fingers traced her bottom, sliding down the gentle rift of it, causing Helen to take a sharp intake of breath in response. With agonizing slowness, he traced down past her wet heat and under her, fingers stroking her from cleft to clit and back again.

"No. Oh my God," she responded, pressing her hips backwards.

He stilled his hand.

"What? James, please, what?" She practically begged.

One of his feet came down beside the settee, while the other leg knelt behind her. He covered her body with his own and she felt his warm breath in her ear. "You said 'no', Helen. I can't continue without your permission."

Despite her intense need, Helen had always adored James' unwavering code of chivalry. John had forever been the consummate gentleman in public, but in the bedroom all bets were off. Theirs had been a thrilling sexual pairing, if sometimes bordering on the frightening. Oh, he could be gentle too, she had lovely memories of those times as well, but with James, she never had to worry about things going too far, bringing the need for apologies later. "I didn't mean to say it. You have my permission. Go. Go."

"Are you sure?" he whispered.

She turned her face towards his lips and kissed him deeply before pulling back. "Very sure. Help me feel what you feel about me. I need to be more than…" Helen couldn't verbalize what she needed to be or not be, but James already knew.

He returned her kiss tenfold. "You are not. And your child will be so much more than the mere spawn of a madman. He or she will be only yours." His hands came to rest on her hips after circling them softly. He paused to place a wet kiss on the small of her back and she felt him breathing her in. Helen wanted him to taste her desperately, but she heard the movements of his hand unclasping his belt and trousers and decided that, no: oral pleasure would be too much just now. She wanted him inside her, and knew he understood when she felt James guide himself to press firmly against her heat.

Helen edged her hips up off their pillow in encouragement, and James obliged her need, sinking slowly into her. "God!" was the only coherent sound she could make as he began stroking a gentle rhythm.

It wasn't enough, and she pushed up from where the top of her body rested against the settee to seat him inside her more fully. "More, James," she commanded.

"Wait," he countered. "I don't want to hurt you. Let me do this right." She moved her hips again, and he stilled them with a firm grasp. "Helen." He warned.

She relented, resting her forehead back down against her folded arms. And only with her surrender, did he resume his movement. The slow grinding of his hips brought them together, eliciting a whimper from Helen, and just when she thought she would die from not quite enough friction, he changed the rhythm to a smooth thrust. She sighed, pushing her hips back only slightly to indicate her pleasure at this turn of events.

Helen felt when James became as caught up in the moment as she was. When his tightly controlled seduction started to lose just a little of that renowned discipline. There was a different thrill when James lost control versus her other lovers. James maintained absolute checkmate over his baser emotions in day-to-day life, so when he lost control of his passions with her, she gloried in the fact that she could do that to him, and she wanted to give him something in return. While still gentle, his thrusts became quicker, so she reached back to lace her hand with one of his.

That was the end. It seemed to be all James needed to become lost in the act and let their passions control the movement. The angle of his penetration changed and she was pushed over the edge with such force that she cried out in a strangled sob as her orgasm overcame her.

James untangled his fingers from hers, gripping her hips before he tumbled hard over the edge in his own orgasm, spilling into her. For a moment, he rested his body on her back, reaching forward to lovingly stroke her hair until his equilibrium returned.

It was moments like these that the eternity of her life struck her as blessed. She felt momentarily bereft when he moved his weight from her body, but only just slightly, so he could pull her robe back down over her derriere. Sitting back on the settee, he snuggled her back into his embrace. Her breathing was still rapid and she felt the sweet aftershocks of her orgasm when he took his free hand and pressed firmly between her legs.

They laughed, and he brought the other hand to her cheek, turning her face to his. They didn't kiss. They merely rested their foreheads together. It had been many, many years since they had shared carnal pleasures together, and it was something of a homecoming. James had always been there for Helen. If John hadn't utterly and completely stolen her heart right from the start, it would have been James. There was no one else in the world, including John, who was simply _there_ when she needed him, whether for friendship, comfort, or absolutely astonishing sexual pleasure. Helen was unsure if it would happen again, knowing that James' dependence on his exoskeleton was becoming more grave, so she relished every touch.

"Stay with me tonight?" she asked, hopefully.

"Nothing would make me happier," was his soft reply.

When Helen Magnus woke in the morning, spooned in the embrace of her best friend and protector, she stretched languorously in his arms, feeling like a gloriously sensual woman again. James' hand circled her navel and her soon-to-be child gave a kick and a punch. She smiled feeling as though the world had been righted. The child was well, and she had exactly who she needed at her side. She grasped his hand, relaxing into his touch. Perhaps he was right. She didn't need to work so hard just now. It was time to prepare for the changes that were to come, and that included time languishing in her lover's arms. Motherhood would soon usurp many of her normal working hours, and certainly most of the few sleeping hours she still enjoyed.

"Relax, Helen," he murmured in her ear.

So she did.


End file.
